Skip to main content

In it to win it

 By Sharon C. Cooper 

Summary:

Morgan Redford, known for her privileged and carefree lifestyle, wants to make a meaningful difference by helping young adults aging out of foster care. She sets her sights on a property perfect for this cause, only to find her competition is ex-boyfriend Drake Faulkner, a Los Angeles real estate developer. Both are determined to win, but the eccentric owner insists they compete in a series of challenges. As tensions rise and past emotions resurface, Morgan and Drake must decide if they can stay focused on the prize or if their rekindled attraction will get in the way.


My thoughts:

In this book, the insertion of TikTok and reality elements feels jarring, detracting from the overall narrative. I’m not a fan of real life things in novels. I want to escape reality, not face it in literature too. The characters’ tendency to (literally) stumble through situations rivals that of Bella Swan, which is meant to be charming but often falls flat. While my determination to finish helped pull me out of a reading slump, the story felt unnecessarily stretched; it could have easily been condensed into a 300-page novel.


On a positive note, I appreciated the simplicity of the love story. It’s refreshing to see Black love portrayed in a lighthearted way, moving beyond the typical narratives of trauma that often dominate the genre. This representation is valuable and needed.


Overall, I’d rate the book a 5/10.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Prayer Is Not a Policy

Earlier this week, the Ministry of Youth and Gender Affairs launched what it called a “groundbreaking initiative”. The National Week of Prayer Against Gender-Based Violence under the theme  “United in Prayer, Solidarity Against GBV.”   I know right? And look, we’ll get to women in positions of power upholding misogynistic and patriarchal values another day. Or maybe later today.  One crisis at a time, neh?  So here’s the thing. Botswana is facing a relentless and escalating epidemic of GBV. From child rape to domestic homicide, survivors are left with shattered lives, limited access to justice, and an insufficient social support system. With churches, religious groups, and communities being called to unite in spiritual solidarity against a national crisis, this initiative was painted as a hopeful, healing intervention. But let’s be brutally honest: this is  not   what change looks like. A man was able to walk into a university and take a woman’s life as she...
Post a Comment
Read more

Bloom Again

I hope this is the last time I’ll be this candid. I tell myself that each time — that I’ll keep my thoughts locked in a private journal. But this isn’t that. This is for the moments when silence feels heavier than the truth, and when the truth is met with the world’s strange discomfort with the word  victim. I put the word in quotes because somewhere along the way, society decided it’s unseemly for us to claim it.  Survivor  is the softer, braver term. It’s supposed to shake off the pity in people’s eyes, to make us sound like we’ve climbed out of the wreckage and dusted ourselves off. I understand why some prefer it. But maybe it’s the literalist in me — I don’t understand why naming what happened to me is considered self-pity. I was wronged. I was harmed. I am the victim of a crime. That acknowledgment doesn’t mean I carry it as a badge or romanticize it. It’s just the truth. After putting my thoughts on trial I realized that it’s easier for me to think of things that h...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Young Woman in a Man’s World

Trigger warning SA/H I'm not a stranger to the advances of men. I was sexually assaulted at the age of 7 or 8, in a knee-length skirt made of shades of blue and a bright green Hannah Montana T-shirt. I was leered at by the angry man's cousin when I wore a ruffled pink skirt my school had asked parents to buy for a concert. He didn't touch me, but his eyes undressed me as I played on the trampoline. I learned to cover up. I also learned that wearing boy clothes, being a gothy tomboy, or avoiding clothes that actually fit me wouldn’t stop a man from aggressively reaching between my legs in broad daylight. Staying away from boys, and being scared of men, was never going to make them  not  notice me. Like something that goes bump in the night, the scent of fear only seemed to get them going. I’m 25 now, and as I’ve said, I’m not new to this. But for the first time, I’m surrounded by grown men. I can’t escape them—I bump into them at every turn. I’ve never had to deal with them ...
Post a Comment
Read more